Quidditch Players
by perfectsmuttyvampire
Summary: Victor and Harry are on opposing teams for the first Quidditch World Cup after the War. But for Victor, he’s got more on his mind than Quidditch. It’s his beautiful new bride…


**_TITLE: Quidditch Players_**

**_SUMMARY: Victor and Harry are on opposing teams for the first Quidditch World Cup after the War. But for Victor, he's got more on his mind than Quidditch. It's his beautiful new bride…_**

**_PAIRING: Victor/Ginny_**

**_WARNING: Smutty goodness. Lemony. We love lemons._**

**_For star-struck-imagination. Sorry this took such ages to get up. Please forgive me!_**

VPOV

The atmosphere is as it always is, but there is a heightened sense of celebration in the air. This time, there will definitely be no Death Eaters, there will be no Dark Mark, there will be no threat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Tonight is the first Quidditch World Cup final after the death of Voldemort. And tonight, tonight is the night she promised me she'd come.

The whistle blows, and we fly onto the pitch. Facing me is England, having triumphed for what must be the first time ever. Facing me is the Captain of the England team, the great Harry Potter himself. We shake hands quite peaceably - friends for years, so we don't do what some captains do and attempt to crush each other's hands. Harry and I are bracketed together as the best Seekers the world has ever seen - and the critics have been looking forward to this match for weeks. Who really is the best? Who is capable of winning? Harry has a better record than I do for time: he caught the Snitch in two minutes once, and now holds the record. For everything he's done, all the things he's achieved, he isn't the least big-headed. He's rather shy, always seems slightly nervous, a quiet, polite man who exudes peace and calm. We've had drinks together for Gods sake, during which he informed me he'd had me as his ideal ever since he started playing Quidditch.

We hover in formation, and then the whistle blows and the match is on. For every time our team gets the Quaffle, Harry has his Chasers there, tackling, Beaters sending Bludgers and makes sure his Keeper is on high alert at all times. Nonetheless, in the third hour, we are neck and neck, both teams on four-hundred and ninety. Then Harry accelerates upwards, concentrating fiercely. I follow him, and we're neck and neck, arms outstretched as we race for the tiny fluttering ball. I hear him laughing even over the whipping of the wind in my ears.

"Damn you, Potter," I shout, laughing myself. "Don't you dare!"

"Come on, Krum! Losing your touch, perhaps?" He draws ahead and I urge my broom forward. "She's watching you," he shouts, and I nearly fall for it. I nearly turn my head to seek her out in the crowd, but I don't.

"You'll have to do better than that, Potter!" I lurch forward, but he knocks my hand away at the last second. The Snitch gives it up as bad job and zips down. We look at each other. He yanks his broom into a virtual vertical dive. Screams arise from the crowd as he goes into a literal vertical drop. Is he _crazy_? Does he _want_ to die? Nobody can control that, and I dive after him. I catch him up, and I can't even tell any more if it's the wind causing the screaming in my ears or whether it's the crowd, convinced that the best Seekers in the world are going to die. Hell, _I'm_ convinced we're going to die. The snitch streaks along the ground less than a foot from it. I can't breathe. I must be pulling two or three G's. I have to level out. The ground is getting closer, and I pull out before Harry does.

I closed my eyes and waited for the crash. I waited for the screams of horror that Harry Potter had tried and failed to pull off the most dangerous move in Quidditch. When I dared to open them again, it was to see Harry streaking along the ground just centimetres from the floor, less than a foot below me and very much alive. I dropped down to his level.

"Are you _insane_, Potter!" I holler, half-angry, half-relieved. He's less than a centimetre from the Snitch. And I honestly couldn't care less. To pull off that move, he deserves it. His fingers close around the tiny golden ball, and he raises in the air triumphantly.

The cheers erupt and he hurtles round the pitch, holding the tiny Snitch, relishing in the fact that England has just won the World Cup for literally the first time ever. The people from both sides who had come here to see the impossible, to see the greatest Seekers clash, they go wild. Harry appears next to me again, and holds out his hand.

"Fly with me, Krum," he says, smiling. "Fly with me. Hold the Snitch with me, and fly." We rise up together, both holding onto the Snitch. Screams and cheers follow us as even the England team cheer us both on. We drop to the floor again, not even thinking about vertical dives. I let go of the Snitch and urge Harry towards the now evident figure of the Minister for Magic.

"Go on. He's just dying to congratulate you - again."

"I hate you. I should have just let you catch the damn thing. He'll only invite me to his tent for a drink, and try and get me to become Head of Department for something. By the way - I left a surprise for you in your tent. Just in memory of our school days."

After the pointlessly loud and drunken celebrations, Harry and I stroll back to the campsite together, under Disillusion Charms, not wanting to be attacked by autograph hunters and screeching girls. He ambles off through the darkness towards his tent and I duck through the flap of mine. I don't get two steps before I'm struggling out of the uniform and leaving it all in a heap on the floor. I sigh with something akin to pleasure when I'm standing in just my boxers, feeling cool night air lick my skin. I go into the bedroom and freeze up completely.

She's here. She is sitting on my bed, long legs encased in stockings gleaming in the half-light, school-girl skirt barely even covering her ass, shirt partially unbuttoned, tie resting just on the first button that's done up. Her hair is cascading down her back. And she's smiling.

"Hello, Champion."

"You did watch the match?"

"I don't care who caught the damn Snitch, Victor. You're always my champion."

I kiss her gently.

"Victor, do you remember the night we first met?"

"Eight years ago. The Quidditch World Cup. When the Death Eaters came."

"I was so scared that night. Fred was clinging to me, yelling at George to hold my hand and not let go. That night, it was the first and only time I saw Fred cry. He told me afterwards he thought he'd lost me, that I was going to die. And somehow - god knows how - George was pulled away from me. Fred put his hand out, yelling for him, but we couldn't stop him. He just got carried along by the running crowds. He fought, we could see him trying to get back to us. But it was so dark and so frantic we lost sight of him. Then someone barged me and Fred. I didn't see him go, I just felt him let go of me. I was screaming, yelling for anyone, someone. I shouted the names of everyone I could think of. And then you barged into me, knocked me flat. You hoisted me up, dragged me to a tree and shielded me with your body."

"And you kicked the hell out of my shins, telling me you had to go and find your family and Harry."

"I didn't know who you were. All of a sudden there was this great hulking shadow pinning me to a tree. Then the screams and running died down and you stepped back. I had my wand right there," she murmurs, pressing her fingertip very lightly, to the base of my throat. "You stepped away from me, lit your wand and I saw it was you."

"You didn't put your wand down."

"There had just been Death Eaters running all over the place. For all I knew, even you could be in league. I didn't know if those things had gone. Then Ron yanked you back so hard you fell over. I leapt at them. Ron just looked at you, sitting on the floor, gaping up at him. And then they cast the Dark Mark. I turned around again to look for you - and you'd vanished."

"Mmmm - I saw the Mark, panicked, and Disapparated. I was back in Bulgaria in seconds. I went to Durmstrang the next day, found out all about the Tournament and told Karkaroff about the Mark, and what had happened at the Cup."

"Then you walked through the doors at Hogwarts and you didn't so much as look at me in all the time you spent there."

"I was so afraid you'd think me a coward after what happened at the Cup. I Disapparated - and you, barely thirteen, you stayed. And then, the year after, when you and that fool-hardy bunch of maniacs went into the Department of Mysteries, faced Death Eaters and walked back out, I was even more convinced that you wouldn't want to know me. And then - when you fought with _Bellatrix Lestrange_ during the Final Battle and refused point blank to give up after what had happened to your family - I felt about an inch tall."

"And then, a year after Voldy finally died, and I saw you again - you smiled at me."

"I did. And I finally managed to get up the courage to talk to you. You were very nice about the Disapparation. You said you would have gone too - had you been able to Apparate."

"I think we all would have done."

"But I never actually said thanks."

"Yes you did Victor. You said all the thank you I needed to hear when you agreed to start seeing me."

I gaze at her for a long time. She looks so beautiful in the moonlight. Her eyelashes fall as colour sweeps her cheeks under my scrutiny. I stroke her cheek with my hand, then run that hand down her side, letting the pad of my thumb just graze the swell of her breast. I caress her hip gently, and she sighs softly.

"Victor…" I push her back onto the bed and kiss her. She fights with me for dominance. It's a fight I win, and then, with a happy moan, she submits to me. I unbutton that shirt. Wriggle her skirt and panties down her long legs, kissing her as I unclasp her bra. She helps me when the alcohol fuses slightly with brain power and I fumble. She kisses me again, the fireworks explode in my head and suddenly I'm pressed against her and we're both gloriously naked and it's the slide of flesh on flesh, the feel of her silky skin completely bared under my hands, the feel of her hair as it spills onto the pillow, over my hands as she stretches out beneath me, surrendering to my touch, to my hands, mouth, lips. She mews with pleasure when I slide myself inside her, and she tightens around me, holding me there in her wet heat as I stroke her from the inside out with long, slow, torturous strokes. She growls gently when I take her breasts with hands, then mouth, lavishing her chest, neck, mouth with kisses which she returns with everything she has in her. She raises her hips, hip meeting hip with a perfect sound, and the feel of her now, so much tighter. I'm burning, I'm almost sure of it. I almost sure we're both on fire. But it's her, the feeling of her around me, clasping me close, whispering broken curses in my ear as she approaches that indefinable edge. Her legs clasp around my waist like chains, holding me closer, clinging to me as she falls. I'm only to happy to go with her, to fly, to feel her constrict around me even as I keep going, keep thrusting, keep moving inside her until long after we've both landed. She gasps for air, stroking my face, tracing the outlines of my jaw, cheekbones, lips before she kisses me and wraps her arms around me. I go to sleep with her there in my arms.

I'll never let her go again. I walked away once, and it was the biggest mistake of my life. I will never abandon her like that again. I tell her this, and she smiles. I tell her I love her and she kisses me and she tells me she loves me too. I hold her tight, and she sleeps, her hand enclosed in mine, her arm across my chest. I kiss her hair. I go to sleep. I see her face when I dream.

_**A/N: I promised star-struck-imagination this months ago, and I am SO SORRY it's only just come into existence. I can only pray it's been worth the wait. **_

_**PLEASE REVIEW!** _


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